theswordsman's Diaryland Diary

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band of brothers

Last week when I was spending my last ten or so bucks of food stamps, I asked about the 79 cent hot dogs, and the guy ran and got me two packs. I ate some later that day - they were these soft, textureless things. It wasn't until that evening I decided to check ingredients, and saw that for the second time, I'd fallen for mechanically separated chicken. I researched it last time. Don't Google it, but don't ever eat it either.

It was about the time I threw those away that I gave myself permission to call the food pantry, not realizing they'd added the Spanish Inquisition as an added feature. I sat and answered the questions, what with the bright lights and unseen rubber hoses and such. I never expected to see any of the three church leader types again, or the woman who answers the phone and buzzes me in the door.

I wasn't expecting they'd included expired food in my box, either. I started having awful stomach pains during the night. In the morning I checked and saw I'd eaten a can of something that had expired months before. I didn't know if maybe the questions had pushed me across the edge to an ulcer, or if it was the hot dogs or expired canned stuff. I still don't know. In case you think I'm overreacting, they gave me a box of mac & cheese - the kind with everything included, and ready to use soft cheese in a silver pouch, that had expired 34 months ago. I cut open the pouch and it was this gross brown stuff that probably shouldn't go in a landfill. There was a bit of good stuff, like the fake corn flakes, so I wrote it off as a neutral experience.

I've got caller ID, but the cord doesn't reach to this seat, so it's a real pain getting to a spot where I can check it. That was the case yesterday when the phone rang. Once it stopped, I glanced at the ID, and it was the church where the food pantry operates. One of the guys was going to call my food stamp case worker to ask about a medical card, even though I told him I don't qualify. Anyway, I called, and talked to the other guy, who had misunderstood and got it in his head that I'm a military veteran. Nopers.

He talked a bit more, and said he was touched by my situation, and he wanted to give me cash to buy a bottle of MAF. I told him I didn't expect anything, or want to be a charity case. He said that maybe my calling out of the blue after months away, right when they were meeting, might have been God sending me to them so they could help me. Anyway, I drove over, and he gave me a twenty, and said we should talk some time about the things I need to help me function. I drove home,, and tried adding another bottle to my order, but it was packaged already, so I found a new place and ordered one from there. It might actually get here first.

Today Contador and his teammates rode twice around the course for Sunday's Team Time Trial.

Then he went to the hotel for a press conference, where he got drilled about doping, especially by one Irish guy who wrote a doping book, and asked Contador, "why should we believe you now?"

He recovered from that, and headed off to a fake Roman arena for the presentation of the 22 teams. The first 21 teams went on stage one at a time, had each of their names announced, and had their leader answer a few questions. It was all polite. Then Contador's team was announced, and some of the people started whistling and booing. They did it again when he was announced as an individual, then they clapped for his eight teammates, and they booed him again when he was asked questions. It was pretty awful for a fan to watch, especially after seeing tape earlier of the Irish jerk.

I've been trying to chase off some of my twitter followers. One is a guy who does a cycling cartoon that's politically against guys. Funny, sometimes, unless he goes after someone you respect. Then there are fake cycling accounts as satire of other cycling things - scary folks. Anyway, a friend from Denmark asked me about the Irish guy thing, and she's historically good at lighting the fuse that sets me off. I started with a "let's chase off some people", then went on a many tweet rant against the logic of the Irish guy. I hoped some of the guys who aren't fans of Contador would leave. I checked back a while later, and the Danish woman had retweeted someone saying that he, for one, stood behind everything I said about Contador, that I really know my stuff, and that he enjoys reading my tweets. Then more people showed up, so I ignored it all and watched TV shows.

Something you have no reason to know about me is that I have the instincts of a leader. When I played playground basketball, I was a point guard who made sure everybody on my teams had a chance to do well and to have fun. When the games used to break up, or not start, because someone only wanted to play on a certain person's team, or they argued about fouls and scoring and stuff, I introduced scoreless games. We played hard, but if a guy broke clear for a lay-up, someone would try to block the shot, but wouldn't maul him, because there was literally no point. In later years, they'd make me quarterback for both teams, or pitch for both teams, or whatever.

Anyway, it's still inside of me, so if you think I couldn't occasionally crank up my own non-Shakespeare version of the Band of Brothers speech from Henry V, you'd be wrong.

I just don't want to lead anyone right now. Thanks.

I got out of the tennis habit when the Internet was down. I barely watched yesterday, and saw maybe five minutes total today.

6:10 p.m. - Thursday, Jun. 30, 2011

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Started Monday 4/18/2011

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